


The Camping Trip

by overthejune



Series: DNF Oneshots [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Camping, DNF, Florida, Fluff, Gay Panic, Hiking, Kissing, M/M, Storm - Freeform, dream is dream, dreamnotfound, george is gay panic personified, idk man this is my first fanfic ever, sapnap is mentioned because why not :), they get shirtless, thunderstorm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28983363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overthejune/pseuds/overthejune
Summary: Clay and George go for an outdoors activity but things take a stormy turn. What will happen when they get a little too cozy?
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: DNF Oneshots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2139801
Comments: 4
Kudos: 85
Collections: Soft Dream fics that make me hgnnn





	The Camping Trip

**Author's Note:**

> heya! i'm gonna be honest, this is my first fanfic, ever. i know it's not gonna be that good, but if you think of giving it a try, I do hope you enjoy it!<3  
> if Dream and/or George change their mind about shipping and fanfiction, I will not hesitate to delete this :)

“Are we there yet?” I somehow manage to huff out. “We’ve been hiking for a really long time.”  
Ahead of me, Clay hums happily, but he doesn’t answer me.  
So I smack him on the shoulder.  
“Hey! Seriously! How much farther? I’m dying here.”

Clay turns and rolls his eyes at me, then points at a small metal sign almost hidden among the bushes. It says CAMPGROUND in block letters beside an arrow.  
He gives me an enthusiastic smile.  
“See? We’re almost there!”  
I notice that the arrow points straight uphill and barely stifle my groan as I coax my tired legs to move, following him further up the mountain.

“I can’t believe you’ve never gone on a backcountry trip before,” Clay says stepping on a rock ledge.  
“Don’t Brits like taking ‘walks through the Alps?’” he continues glancing back down at me, with a mocking tone in his eyes.  
“Somehow I’ve managed to get through life…” I attempt to mimic Clay’s action and step on the ledge “…without scaling rock faces and skiing off cliffs in my free time,” and my foot slips from the rock. I finally let out a loud groan.  
Clay grins, then offers me his hand to help me up the rock ledge. I take it, more aware than I should be, of the way his muscles bunch beneath his shirt.

“Admit it. You’re having fun.”

I scramble up the sliding rocks behind him.  
I don’t want to let him go, and I don’t quite know what to make of that.

He’s right: I AM having fun.  
But it’s not because of the activity. It’s because I’m with him.

Not in cold, cold England. But with him, in tropical Florida.

“AHA!”  
He stops suddenly, and I run right into him. When I squint in the direction he’s pointing, I can just make out a small mossy shack.  
The promise of rest and a campfire pushes me forward, towards the tiny gatehouse.

It’s labeled “PINE TREE BLACK COUNTRY CAMPGROUND.”  
But there’s nobody there.

“Are you sure we can camp here?” I look around, “don’t we have to, like, check-in?”  
“It’s not a hotel, George. Let’s pick a campsite and get set up.”  
He starts walking and I follow.  
There are plenty of sites to choose from. The campground is empty.

After a short while, he sets his gear down. I shrug off my bag and reach in and pull out a bundle of nylon and some aluminum poles.

“Let’s pitch the tent.”  
“That’s usually my line.”  
I flush, realizing what I just said.  
“I didn’t… I don’t… um…”  
He lets out his stupid, soft laugh.  
“I’m just teasing. Come on, let’s pitch a tent!”

I choke out a laugh and reach for one of the collapsible tent poles.  
I’m suddenly desperate to hide the fact that his teasing has flustered me. I remember how hiding it was easier back home, in front of a webcam, thousands of viewers watching. I could just say “Dream, you’re such an idiot” He and Sapnap would just laugh it off and move on.

I watch from the corner of my eye as he shakes out the tent. His muscles, lean from hours spent outside, pressed tightly against his thermal shirt.

It’s hard to drag my gaze away and focus on what we were doing.

What we are trying to do, actually… because the wind has picked up.  
It gusts through the clearing, making it difficult to keep the tent from blowing away.

“Is it always this windy up here?” I shiver as the gusts turn cold.  
Clay frowns, considering.  
“It can be windy at this high an altitude, but this seems a little extreme.”

Perhaps right on cue, the sky opens up and rain starts pouring down.

I hurry to hammer the last peg down, as the wind and rain pick up.  
The tempest tears at the nylon of our tent…  
And we both shout when the tent is ripped out of the ground — the storm whipping it up into a tree.

Before I can even process what had happened, a bolt of lightning splits the clouds, blinding me as it strikes the ground two feet from where we’re standing, followed by a deafening clap of thunder.

Our eyes meet and we both nod in silent agreement before clasping our hands and running for the gatehouse.  
We gratefully crowd into the tiny building, keeping the raging storm out as we try to catch our breath.

“Well, now we know why nobody else is here,” I ruffle my hair to remove the moisture. “Why didn’t you check the forecast?”  
Clay casts me an incredulous look.  
“Because that was your job. Your ONLY job!”  
I open my mouth to disagree, but he cuts me off.  
“Let’s not argue. We’re safe and dry.”  
My pulse starts to pound.  
“We’re also stuck on a mountain! With no one around to hear us scream!”  
He snorts out a laugh. “You’re being dramatic. We’re fine. We’ll just wait out the storm in here.”

He crouches to dig into a cardboard box nearby.

He brushes against me as he does, and I’m suddenly very aware of how small this shack is. It was built to fit one person. And when his shirt rides up, exposing the smooth muscles of his back, I don’t have anywhere else to look.

“Yes! There’s a banket in here!”

He stands, shaking out a length of red plaid wool.  
It smells musty but looks warm. And I shiver, realizing that the damp cold has crept right into my bones.

“Take your shirt off.”

I blink, certain I heard him wrong.  
Maybe not, though... because he grabs the hem of his own shirt and peels it up and over his head.  
He clocks my wide-eyed stare.

“You’ll get warmer faster if you take off your wet clothes.”

Right. Of course.  
Slowly, I reach for the collar and turn away to take off my shirt.  
But I swear I can feel his eyes on me.  
When I turn back around to see that I’m right.  
He’s looking at me with undisguised interest on his face… and I don’t know what to do.  
I'm suddenly nervous, which is ridiculous…

Because Clay is my best friend. He is my best friend.

To cover how flustered I am, I grab for the blanket.  
But he doesn’t let go.

“There’s only one blanket. We have to share.”

My breath catches in my throat as he loops the blanket around both of us.  
I’m painfully aware of the ridges of muscles on his torso, and the “v” of his hips.

This is weird. I mean, this is not the first time I’ve felt like this… static balloon when it comes to Clay. I’ve felt this every time he has flirted with me on calls or streams or even when we’d text. But this time, this feels more… private.  
Personal.

Real.

Until now, I’ve been able to convince myself that what I felt, the static, was just because it was funny to me how people shipped us and took our silly back-and-forth “flirting” to be real. Or maybe just because I admired him.

But here in this cozy shelter in the middle of a wild storm, I can’t ignore the truth.

My mouth just goes dry as we huddle together on the small wooden bench, bare skin to bare skin.

My heart is hammering in my chest… and I don’t know what to do.

I’ve… never really thought about guys before. Not like this.  
This isn’t guys though, It’s one guy: my Dream.

My favorite person in the entire world. 

He shifts, his hand brushing against mine.

I suck in a quick breath and look at him straight on.

I feel a definite spark.  
And the fire is reflected in his own eyes.

“So… how’s Anne?”  
I don’t want to talk about my ex-girlfriend. But I think I know why he’s asking.  
“We broke up.”

Clay nods, exhaling with relief.  
And I know for sure that whatever I’m feeling right now, I’m not alone.

“Something just never felt right with her.”

I want to say something, to tell him how I feel.  
I just don’t know how.

He’s silent for a long moment.  
But when he speaks, my heart skips a beat at his words.

“I think when it feels right…” I feel a hand on my jaw, “you just know.”

A small sound escapes me, and then he’s kissing me.

The stubble on his chin is rough on my cheeks, and I like it.  
I hook one arm around his neck and place the other on his shoulder.  
Our noses press against each other’s and his fingers ruffle through my dark, damp hair, all while the static around us, crackling. 

After a long moment, we pull apart.

I place my hand on his chest for balance as I try to catch my breath.

“How… how was that?” he asks, almost sounding flustered.  
“It was… different,” I answer, still catching my breath.  
“Good different, I hope.”  
A shaky chuckle escapes me.  
“So good. But I don’t… I don’t know what to do from here.”

A bolt of lightning outside illuminates the interior of the shack, letting me see the reassuring smile on his face.

“Right now, all we have to do is stay warm, George.” Shifting inside the blanket, he wraps an arm around me, “we’ll figure the rest out later,” kissing me again, long, soft and sweet.

And I know we will do just that, as we wait out the storm.

**Author's Note:**

> so yah, not that good.  
> criticism and suggestions are welcome!  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/OverTheJune)


End file.
